


A Home I'll Never See

by capsicleonyourleft



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Character Death, Goodbyes, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsicleonyourleft/pseuds/capsicleonyourleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even heroes have the right to bleed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home I'll Never See

“Stay awake.”

The voice that drags him back to consciousness sounds distant, but it’s firm and familiar, commanding attention. “You have to stay awake,” it repeats. Gentle fingers stroke his cheek before cupping it. “Open your eyes. I need you to stay awake. _Kal_.”

It’s a struggle, but he manages to pry his heavy eyelids open, meeting Bruce’s gaze. Lying supine with his head in Bruce’s lap, he doesn’t recall ever feeling this tired. “You just can’t stop yourself from barking orders at me, can you?” Clark says through cracked lips, feeling them split as his mouth quirks in a half-smile.

“If only you _listened_ ,” Bruce gripes back, carding his fingers through Clark’s hair, pushing the sweaty strands away from his eyes. He has his cowl off, face covered in soot, an ugly gash running from his temple to his ear. His breathing is laboured, and Clark doesn’t need X-ray vision to determine at least one of his ribs is cracked. The bullet wound in his shoulder bleeds onto the ‘S’ shield on Clark’s chest, a slow drip of red against yellow.

“You’re hurt,” Clark says with a frown, prompting Bruce to look down at his injury.

“It’s nothing,” he dismisses. “Just another scar.”

A sudden wave of nausea prevents Clark from responding, an acrid taste spilling on his tongue. Clenching his fists, he tries to focus on his breath, hoping to distract from the pain wrapped around him like a blanket. When a few moments have passed, he cranes his neck to look down his body. There’s a piece of rebar protruding from his abdomen, a smaller piece lodged in his thigh, the shredded remains of Bruce’s cape securing them in place. “So,” he starts, “this is looking pretty bad.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Bruce says authoritatively, as if he can command reality itself to bend to his will. “I’ve sent a distress signal to the League to alert them to our location, help is on the way. You’re going to be fine. Just don’t move.”

Clark can’t help but laugh at that, the sound turning into a wet cough as the muscles in his core spasm painfully. “You know,” he says, blood coating his lips, “never thought I’d say this, but you’re a lousy liar. There’s no getting out of this—not for me. We both know that.”

Bruce steels his jaw, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. “You’re wasting too much energy. You need to save your strength,” he says, which is as polite of a way of saying _shut up_ as he knows.

“Won’t make much of a difference,” says Clark, keeping his voice gentle. The last thing he wants to do is fight. The prolonged encounter with the Parasite took everything he had; his powers are completely drained. It would take hours to regain any strength, and by then it would be too late. Surely, Bruce has made the calculations. It can’t be more than minutes, now. “Hey, Bruce? Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Tell Damian I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I was supposed to help him build a model of the solar system for his science project. I think the kid was actually starting to like me,” he says, the thought filling him with warmth. Damian is a lot like his father, in more ways than one; Clark had to work to gain Bruce’s trust, too. “Looks like it’s a promise I won’t be able to keep, though.”

“You’ve never broken a promise, Kansas,” Bruce says, his voice turning a little shaky. “Don’t be starting now.”

The dizziness and the ringing in his ears make it hard to focus, but Clark smiles and clutches Bruce’s hand in his, finding the touch grounding. “Maybe Hal will help, if you ask nicely… Better yet, get Barry to ask him,” he says. Speaking _is_ becoming more and more challenging, leaving him winded, but there are things he has to say. “Tell our friends it’s been an honour. Conner and Kara… tell them I’ve never been prouder of anyone. And tell Ma… tell her thank you, for everything.”

“You can tell them your damn self.”

“Bruce. _Please_ ,” he begs, clenching his teeth as a chill spreads down his spine. “I need to know you’ll tell them.”

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to take a deep breath. “All right,” he agrees, lip quivering as his shoulders droop with resignation. “I promise.”

Clark laces their fingers to express his gratitude. With his other hand, he reaches to touch Bruce’s face, feeling the sharp cut of his jaw, the elegant slope of his nose. He traces each of his brows, smoothing the furrow between them. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, brushing his thumb under Bruce’s bottom lip, the skin shiny with sweat. “I’ve waited fifteen years to be able to tell you that.” He pauses to swallow past the lump in his throat, thinking of what his cowardice had cost him. “Do you even know…”

“ _Clark_ ,” Bruce chokes out, sounding like his windpipe is being crushed. Even in the darkness, it’s easy to see his bright eyes are wet. He grabs Clark’s wrist to keep his hand in place, the next words whispered against his skin. “Just hold on. Please, just _hold on_. It can’t end like this.”

“It’s all right,” says Clark, exploring that stunning mouth with his fingertips. He’s wanted to taste it for what seems like eternity, but not like this; not with bile in his throat and death on his lips. He brings his hand to rest on Bruce’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “This isn’t a bad death, all things considered. I’ve got my best friend by my side.”

The sound Bruce makes at that can only be described as a whimper. “ _Please_ ,” he says, bending his head to Clark’s so their foreheads touch. “ _Don’t leave me_.”

“Shh,” Clark soothes, cradling the back of his head. _You’re so strong_ , he wants to say. _You’ll make it through this, too._ He brings Bruce’s hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of his palm as his eyes fall shut. “Just another scar.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://kentswaynes.tumblr.com/post/147261623076/and-superbat-for-that-meme-3)


End file.
